Little Pink Pills
by MushroomAnn
Summary: Two young boys, one last fight, two little pills called Ecstasy and one long detention. A.N: written after OotP and set during sixth year. Warning: drug use!
1. Happy Birthday

**Disclaimer:** I did not invent any of them; I'm just the drugs dealer.

**Rating:** R

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Summary:** Two young boys, one last fight, two little pills called Ecstasy and one long detention.

**Warnings:** Slash and drug use.

**Beta:** by Rae – You are wonderful, thank you!

**Dedicated to:** Limor – My "wife" and fellow psychonaut.

**A/N:** Remember - they are not OOC, just high.

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Happy Birthday**

The night air was hot and Harry was sweating. The thick familiar fluid spread inside his mouth, sticky and warm, over his tongue and his teeth, sliding all the way down his throat. One lonely drop escaped the corner of his lips to trickle slowly down his chin and onto the white bedclothes. He prayed Aunt Petunia would not find the stain.

It was the last night of July, Harry's sixteenth birthday, and he was celebrating it the only way he could while stuck at number four, Privet Drive – sitting on his bed, surrounded by his friends' presents and birthday cards and stuffing himself with the fudge-filled chocolate cake Mrs Weasley had sent. However, tasty as it was, that was too much chocolate. Even for him. He needed some water to wash it down.

Standing near the door he could hear loud snores coming from his aunt and uncle's bedroom and silence from Dudley's room. His cousin was not home yet.

Dudley had changed a lot the past year. Harry suspected it had something to do with the Dementors' attack last summer. Saving all his aggression for only his boxing matches, Dudley was not bulling little children anymore. He stopped hanging with his old gang, and even lost some weight. Harry saw him meeting with his new friends at the play park the week before, and immediately understood why they never met at the Dursleys' house – even Dudley was smart enough to know Petunia would have a heart attack if she saw boys with long hair, bright colourful clothes, and pierced faces. Especially if her precious, very _normal_, Ickle Dudleykins was friends with them. She and Vernon still comfortably believed their son was out every other night having nice quiet tea parties with his old friends.

Harry had a sneaking suspicion it was not tea served at those parties...

Harry sneaked downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a glass of cold water. A low buzzing sound of electricity came from the refrigerator, and he tried to concentrate on it in order to stop his mind from drifting away to places he would rather not return to, things he was trying desperately to forget but his guilty conscious would not let him stop dwelling on them.

He did not hear the front door as Dudley came home, and he started out of his chair, almost knocking it backwards, when a voice broke him out of his reverie.

"Oh, it's only you." Dudley exhaled in relief. "I was afraid you were my mum."

The Dursleys did not allow Harry to wander the house at night and he was worried Dudley would tell his parents and get him into trouble. He looked up at his cousin's face. There was something different about him: his thick blond hair was messy, his eyes were open wide, and the blue irises were almost entirely covered by huge black pupils. And he was _smiling_. At_ Harry_. That was unusual.

"I forgot my glow sticks, so I had to come back for them," Dudley explained.

Harry frowned. He really could not care less. Why was Dudley telling him this? And why was Dudley being civil to him in the first place?

Dudley started talking so fast, Harry was not sure he was breathing at all: "I love my glow sticks I have all the colours have you ever seen them? If you move them through the air really fast it leaves this trace of light behind them right there in the air! It's brilliant. And there are those smaller glow sticks as well that you can put in your mouth – _and your mouth glows_! I usually accidentally bite them and then they break and it tastes weird and my tongue gets tinted but I still love it." He finally paused to breathe. "It's very very pretty," he concluded with a smile and a longing look in his eyes.

Harry bit the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from laughing at his cousin's strange behaviour.

Dudley looked at Harry and tilted his head. "Isn't today your birthday?" 

"Er... yes." Harry was surprised Dudley remembered the date.

"Ooh… _Sweet Sixteen_," Dudley cooed at him with a scary loving look in his eyes that gave Harry the urge to run and hide under his bed, but it was too late, and a moment later he was pulled into a bone-crushing hug that knocked all the wind out of him. Harry froze at the abrupt attack, and when he felt his feet being lifted up from the floor he might have even squeaked, but preferred to believe he hadn't – It was not a very manly thing to do, and in that particular moment as he was pressed to Dudley's body, he needed all the masculinity he could muster.

Not a moment too soon, Dudley put him down and removed his hands, to Harry's great relief. Harry took a step backwards, thoroughly scared of Dudley's actions by now.

"Sorry I didn't get you any present," Dudley apologised as though nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

"It's OK," Harry answered quickly before Dudley would feel the need to express his regret in a more… _physical_ way.

Dudley furrowed his brow in what looked like deep thought, but Harry could not know for sure – deep thinking was not something he saw Dudley doing very often. Then the big round face brightened. Harry could almost _see_ the light bulb pop up above Dudley's head.

"I know!" Dudley announced in triumph. He lifted his right leg to one of the chairs and dug his hand into a small pocket that was hidden in the hem of his trousers. He took something out and held it in his fist, in front of Harry's face. "Happy birthday, Harry!"

_Great, I'm getting fifty pence again,_ Harry thought bitterly, remembering the coin he got as a Christmas present from the Dursleys on his first year at Hogwarts. He could not think of anything else small enough to fit in that fat fist. With his eyes narrowed, Harry held his palm up to Dudley, who in turn released two pink pills wrapped in cling film into his hand.

Harry's jaw dropped. Those were _definitely _not coins.

"Ecstasy – the best drug in the world!" Dudley stated proudly.

Harry stared at him with wide eyes. "Ah?" he asked, too confused by now to utter more than one syllable.

"You're going to love it, trust me," said Dudley. "Just… er..." he looked around and lowered his voice. "Don't tell anyone_ I _gave it to you, OK?" He must have seen the expression on Harry's face, so he tried to reassure, "Don't worry, even if you don't like it, and there is _no way_ that's going to happen, it only lasts for about four hours." He clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder with a force that could only be matched by Hagrid, and grinned. "The best four hours of your life that is! Have a good night." He turned to leave, but before reaching the stairs turned back on his heel. "And don't be a pig and take them both yourself," he added, shaking his forefinger. "Share it with someone. Someone_ special_." He winked at the still stunned Harry and went upstairs.

Harry stood there, trying to analyse what the hell just happened. Staring at the pills in his hand he first considered throwing them away, not trusting Dudley. Then curiosity took over and he almost took one, wanting to see what would happen, thinking he had nothing to lose; his life could not get much worse anyway. Eventually, he decided to leave it for now and go to bed – he was to wake up early the next day because the Order of the Phoenix members were coming to take him to Grimmauld Place.

Dudley came trudging down the stairs and Harry looked up to see him giggling and waving at him with his precious glow sticks at hand. Harry waved back uncertainly until the front door closed behind Dudley and the house was quiet and still once more.

_What a peculiar night…_ Harry shook his head and climbed back to his room, shoving the pills deep in his jeans pocket.

Where they stayed.

Forgotten.

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**  
A/N:** This is my first fic and I would love to know what you think of it. Everything (harsh criticism included) would be highly appreciated. Thanks for reading! 


	2. Him Again

**Disclaimer:** They're not mine. I only delivered the drugs.

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** Two young boys, one last fight, two little pills called Ecstasy and one long detention.

**Warnings:** Slash and drug use.

**Beta**: by Rae. Thank you!

**Dedicated to:** JKR who introduced us to those boys.

**Comments:** Please do! It's my first fic, and any advice and criticism is appreciated.

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**Him****Again**

Harry was sitting aboard the Hogwarts Express in a locked compartment with Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. They were his Special Guards for today and would not leave his side until they saw him pass safely through the big oak front doors of Hogwarts. Harry was actually thankful for the escort. He was not in the mood for enquiries about Voldemort, or for annoying first-years who did not know how rude it was to gape at other people's foreheads. The other benefit was that for the first time since his first ride on this train five years ago, Malfoy did not show up in his compartment. And he was definitely not looking forward to see _him_ again.

But, as always, his luck ended far too soon. Harry did not notice Malfoy approaching him as he entered the Great Hall for the start of year feast. He was too busy doing the same thing he spent the entire summer doing – replaying last year's events in his head and feeling sorry for himself. It was only when he heard Ron's angry shout of "Sod off, Malfoy!" that he raised his eyes to see the pale pointy face sneering at him.

"Why so sad, Potter?" Malfoy asked in a mock caring voice. "You look like your _dog_ died."

That was all it took for Harry to snap. Blood was pounding in his ears, and his insides boiled with rage. How dare Malfoy mention Sirius?

With a Seeker's speed, Harry drew out his wand, pointed it at Malfoy and shouted the incantation for the Bat-Bogey Hex. But Malfoy was ready for him with his own wand at hand, and shouted his own curse at Harry at the same time. Just as it happened two years before, their curses met in the middle with a loud bang, and ricocheted sideways over the Great Hall like the special Weasley twins' fireworks. There were sounds of shattering glass as the curses hit and smashed the big mosaic windows, littering the stone floor with sparkling shards, and filling the room with the screams of terrified children who were trying to find cover behind benches and under tables. There were a few long seconds before Dumbledore's "_Finite Incantatum!_" was heard over the uproar and a few more confusing seconds for everything to calm down again.

Harry looked around and was stunned to see how much damage they had done.

"_Accio wands! _"

Harry and Malfoy's wands flew out of their reach and into McGonagall's waiting hand. She looked angrier than ever, her lips pursed so thin it appeared she had no mouth at all, and pure fury was blazing behind her square glasses. "You two, my office, _now_," she said in a voice too quiet for Harry's liking, and walked out of the Great Hall with Malfoy on her trail.

Harry stared after them and gulped. He could not believe this was happening. He only arrived at Hogwarts less than half an hour ago and was already in serious trouble.

All because of Malfoy.

Again.

He glanced at Ron and Hermione who mouthed "Good luck" at him, squared his shoulders, and strode out of the hall and up the marble staircase to McGonagall's office.

"Sit!" McGonagall ordered when they arrived. She sat behind her table and raised her wand to spell the door shut.

Harry grimaced at the sharp sound. He had never seen McGonagall that riled before. A tiny voice in the back of his head wondered if the prophecy and his awaiting destiny could save him from expulsion.

"I am deeply disappointed," said McGonagall. "_You_," she said, looking pointedly at Malfoy who cowered in his chair, "a Hogwarts Prefect!"

"And _you_," she said, turning her narrowed eyes at Harry, "haven't you had enough of fighting? I hoped that after last year you would be more careful. You could have hurt someone!"

Harry could hear the "again" that was meant to be at the end of her sentence. He lowered his eyes, trying to shield himself from the accusation in her voice, and refusing to allow Malfoy to see the pain in them. His throat was tightening and he wanted to be alone, the guilt still too heavy for him to deal with. He knew what happened last year was his fault; he did not need her to remind him.

Just as Harry thought things could not get any worse, the door creaked open and Professor Snape came in. In an instant Malfoy's posture changed completely as he straightened and looked up hopefully at his Head of House. He was always Snape's favourite student and, unlike Harry, Snape never punished him.

Snape stood near McGonagall's chair and surveyed them with his black eyes. "I believe this requires a severe punishment," he said in his usual cold voice. "Endangering students, delaying the Sorting Ceremony, and not to mention nearly destroying three ancient mosaic windows. I suggest Potter be banned from the Quidditch team." He turned to face McGonagall who nodded sadly in agreement. He turned back to Harry, an ugly contemptuous smile twisting his lips, but Harry did not care. He did not care much about anything these days.

Snape came to stand next to Malfoy and extended his hand. In a horrible venomous voice that Harry was until now sure Snape reserved only for him, he continued, "And you, Draco, are no longer a Prefect. Give me your badge."

Malfoy's eyes widened in horror and disbelief. "NO! You can't do this to me! I am Draco _Malfoy_, the son of Lu-"

"Silence!" Snape cut him off. "You are the son of a convicted Death Eater. Your relation to Lucius can only hurt you now, and I advise you not to be foolish and keep mentioning it." Malfoy's jaw snapped shut, and Snape went on. "Now, you will do as you are told, and hand over your Prefect badge."

Malfoy turned his best puppy-eyed look to McGonagall in a silent pleading, but to no avail.

"After everything you promised us, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, shaking her head disapprovingly, "you go and duel with none other than Harry Potter. How is that going to convince the Ministry you chose our side and are not following your father?"

Harry stared at Malfoy as he slowly detached the green and silver badge from his black school robes. Could that be true? The evil Death-Eater-To-Be was on the good side? Could he have been wrong about Malfoy all this time?

However, his hatred for Malfoy returned full force as Malfoy answered. "It had nothing to do with him being Harry Potter! It's because he's an irritating, condescending, righteous git! And _he_ attacked _me_ first." Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest and raised his pointy nose.

"Liar!" Harry was getting angry again. "YOU started it!"

In an innocent voice Malfoy said, "I was only asking why you looked sad. I was worried about you."

"No, you weren't." Harry began to lose his temper. "You were laughing at Sirius, you little -" He jumped out of his chair and made a furious move toward Malfoy.

"Sit down!" McGonagall gripped his shoulder and pushed him down back to his chair with way too much force for a woman her age.

Malfoy did not drop his act. "See? He's trying to attack me again."

"This is enough, Draco." Apparently, Snape was not moved by his student's performance. "There will be no more fights, arguments, bickering or duels between the two of you." His voice dropped even lower and colder. "And if you will choose to continue this idiotic, childish behaviour, you _will_ be expelled. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," they both squeaked in unison.

The two professors conversed in whispers amongst themselves for a while before Snape gave their final verdict. "Your detention will be served on the first Saturday of October."

"But that's Hogsmeade weekend!" Malfoy protested, but shut up when he saw the warning look on the professors' eyes.

"And," Snape ignored him and continued, "there will be one hundred and fifty points taken from Gryffindor." He sighed glumly. "And from Slytherin."

McGonagall gave them their wands back, and pointed her own at the table where a plate with two big sandwiches appeared. "Take these and go straight to your common rooms."

They did not need to be told twice. Each grabbed a sandwich and after one last nasty glare at the other, ran away as fast as they could.

After a long and awful month, in which Harry discovered that being the Boy Who Lived was not a good enough excuse for his Housemates who would still be angry over the small matter of losing one hundred and fifty House points, the day of his detention arrived.

Harry was eating breakfast with his friends when McGonagall approached the Gryffindor table and asked him to follow her. Ron and Hermione gave him their best sympathetic looks and promised to bring him back some Butterbeer from Hogsmeade. From across the Great Hall he could see Malfoy walking with Snape, so he muttered a thank you to his friends and followed his Head of House.

The four of them walked in silence to the West Tower and Harry assumed they were going to scrub the Owlery, which was not so bad – at least he would have Hedwig's company and will not be alone with Malfoy.

But, as always, luck was lacking and the professors led them through a door Harry had never noticed before to a small, dusty, abandoned classroom that was located in the southeast side of the tower.

"Get in," Snape ordered, and they obeyed.

There were a few tables scattered in the middle of the room and one in the right corner near the door. On the wall in front of them was a big window with a cushioned window seat, and on the right wall was another door. McGonagall opened that door, pointed her wand inside, and after a few twists and flicks turned back to the boys. "In there is your toilet," she said.

Next, she waved her wand at the table near the door and, just like in the Great Hall, it filled with food and drinks.

She then aimed it at the window and the upper part of the glass opened, letting fresh air in, but still being safe enough for the boys to sit near without falling down. Or push each other out.

"Er," Harry said, "so... are we supposed to clean this room?" He asked hopefully, not truly believing it would be that easy.

"If you wish to," answered McGonagall. "However, the main purpose of today is to give you two a last chance to prove to us you can get along without fighting. We will come back for you at five in the afternoon, before tea."

"But that's eight hours from now!" Malfoy said, but was ignored.

Snape stepped forward. "And there will be no magic. _Accio wands!_" Their wands flew to his outstretched hand and he smirked, his black eyes glinting. "Good day."

The professors left and locked the door, leaving two very disgruntled boys behind.

Malfoy scowled. "Look what you've done, Potter! I was supposed to be on my way to a fun day at Hogsmeade, and instead I'm stuck here. With _you_." He pronounced the last word with great loathing.

Harry tried very hard to rein in his temper. He did not want to set off another brawl, but he was not going to let Malfoy drop all the blame on him. "It's your fault too, Malfoy. And believe me – I'm not too happy being stuck with _you_," he matched Malfoy's tone equally, "either."

Malfoy opened his mouth as if to answer, but closed it back again, probably deciding that starting a fight with Harry without a wand was not wise. Instead, he sat on one of the tables, crossed his legs with insufferable elegant grace, and glared at Harry's head, apparently trying to drill holes through his skull using eyes alone.

Time, as always when you want it to speed up, slowed down to an almost halt, and Harry wondered how he was going to survive this. Standing there with Malfoy's piercing gaze on him made him feel very self-conscious. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and pretended to read the half-erased words from the cobwebs-covered blackboard on the wall. He tried desperately to remember what he usually did with his hands, because right now, they felt like two unnecessary lumps dangling from his sides, and everything he tried to do with them felt exaggerated and unnatural. Especially with those annoying eyes still fixed upon him.

Finally he gave up, turned his back to Malfoy, and went for the food table. He was not hungry, even tough he did not get to eat much at breakfast, but at least it occupied his hands.

There was a jug of pumpkin juice and another with water, a pot of steaming tea, a big bowl with fruits, some round pie, two hot fresh scones, and a plate with four appetising jam pastries covered with icing sugar. Harry reached for those first. He ate two and was about to take a bite out of the third when it was snatched out of his hand.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter? You already ate yours, those two are MINE!" Malfoy yelled.

Harry shrugged. "I don't see your name on it."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He held the pastry and with the tip of his finger carved "DM" on the icing sugar. He put it back down on the plate, and turned back to Harry. "Can you see it _now_?" he asked and raised his finger to his mouth to suck off the sugar.

Harry's eyes could not help but follow.

Malfoy noticed.

He pulled the finger out of his mouth with a popping sound. "Oh, sorry, would you like to do it for me?" he asked in a nauseatingly sweet voice, holding his finger up in front of Harry's face.

Harry felt the heat rise to his cheeks, _only from anger of course_, and pushed the offensive finger away. "Like I would touch anything that's been anywhere near your filthy mouth, Malfoy!" he said hastily and a little too breathlessly.

Malfoy tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He took the two scones from the table, held them close together, and moved his tongue between them in one swift movement, affectively wetting them both.

Harry's eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing? I was going to eat that!"

"Nobody's stopping you, Potter."

"But... it has your spit all over it now."

"So?" Malfoy took a bite out of the scone in his right hand. "Mmm... tastes perfectly fine in my opinion."

Harry had an idea. "So you wouldn't mind if I do _this_?" He took the pie and started lapping his tongue all over its top.

Malfoy's jaw dropped. Apparently, he did not expect this. But it did not take long for him to return to his senses and fight back. He picked up every piece of food he could lay his hands on and that Harry had not yet reached, and licked it.

Harry felt ridiculous. He knew he was being childish, but this was Draco Malfoy he was dealing with – the most immature person he knew. Thinking he must fight fire with fire, he resumed his role in the bizarre Saliva War.

Soon all that was left on the table still untouched was one red apple. Both sets of eyes locked on the target, and they pounced.

But Malfoy was closer and reached it first.

Harry was not going to let him win this battle, and without thinking too much he launched at the apple, now dangerously close to Malfoy's mouth, and gave it a quick lick, accidentally ending up brushing the tip of Malfoy's pointy nose.

Harry stumbled backward when he realised, albeit too late, what he had just done. He was horrified.

Malfoy gasped and dropped the apple to the floor. For a long moment, he just stared at Harry with comically wide eyes, holding his palm to his nose as if Harry had punched him there. Then he screeched, "GROSS!" and ran to the toilet to wash his face.

Harry remained standing there, cheeks burning with embarrassment, stomach flipping sickeningly, and feeling absolutely terrible. His feeling worsened when he picked up the apple, returned it to the bowl, scanned all the food on the table, and realised he could not remember what was his and what was Malfoy's. _Great_, he thought sullenly to himself, _the only thing I remember licking is that prat's nose_. He sighed. _Typical_.

Malfoy came back from the toilet a few minutes later and sent his best death glare at Harry.

Harry found it hard to meet his eyes. "Sorry, I... I... I really love apples," he said, trying to excuse his actions.

Malfoy did not answer. He sat on a table and kept glowering.

Harry sighed and sat on another table.

After what felt like hours of reciting Quidditch strategies in his head, Harry looked at the clock on the wall above the food table and sadly discovered only fifteen minutes had passed. He glanced sideways at Malfoy and saw that he too was watching the clock miserably, drumming his fingers on the table, looking just as bored.

Harry decided to play the brave Gryffindor and start a conversation. "Er..." What could he talk about with a boy he hated for over five years, which would not lead to more bickering? "So... nice weather." _That_ must be a safe enough topic.

Malfoy looked at Harry quizzically without answering, making him feel like an idiot.

_If that's my best conversation topic_, Harry thought to himself, _no wonder I couldn't last even one lousy date with a girl_. "Sunny," he added feebly and indicated with his hand towards the big sunlit window.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned back to the clock.

"Are you really on our side now?" Harry blurted. He was not sure what made him ask this, the words just spilled out of his mouth. _Maybe it's because it was constantly on your mind ever since McGonagall said it_, he mentally mocked himself.

Malfoy only nodded his head once without taking his eyes off the clock.

Harry took the gesture as a good sign and continued. "Why?" he asked. "I thought you hated Muggles and Muggle-borns."

"I do," Malfoy said.

"So why aren't you a Death Eater like your father?"

Malfoy finally did him the favour of turning to face him. "A tattoo of a skull with a snake in its mouth is a little passé, don't you agree?" he said in his usual bored, drawling voice. "Besides, I'm way too beautiful to cover my face with an ugly white mask."

Harry could not tell if he was joking, trying to avoid the question, or was really that vain for it to be the true reason. He felt disgusted with Malfoy if it was the last option, and Malfoy was starting to get on his nerves again. "You, beautiful?" he snorted. "Says who?"

Malfoy gasped as if Harry had just slapped him, and Harry was oddly content. "It's common knowledge, Potter." Malfoy swelled up his chest and held his chin high. "And if _you_ can't see it, then those hideous spectacles of yours aren't doing their job properly."

Harry shrugged. He had already heard all the glasses jokes possible during his childhood with Dudley, and was immune to them. Besides, he was getting to Malfoy, and he liked it. "I think you're too feminine," he said. It was not that Malfoy was not good looking. If you like the blond, aristocratic, Veela-like type. It was just that Harry was having so much fun teasing him.

"FEMININE? Me?" Malfoy bellowed, outraged. "I'm... I'm taller than you are!" he pointed out as if it was a confirmation of his manhood.

"No, you're not. It's only because, _unlike you_, I'm not wearing high heels," Harry said, chuckling. Even after all this time living among wizards, he still could not get used to their ludicrous sense of fashion, and high heels were just as funny on Malfoy as they were on Dumbledore.

"At least I, _unlike you_, don't lick other people's noses," Malfoy said.

Harry felt his face warm at the reminder. He did not have any good retort for that, so he only muttered, "It was an accident" and decided it was time for him to shut up.

Silence took over once more.

Harry stared longingly out of the window. It was a perfect day for a Hogsmeade trip. How much he wanted to be with his friends, to visit Honeydukes and The Three Broomsticks. "I wish I knew how to Apparate so I could get the hell out of here," he mused out loud.

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds," Malfoy said with a "just-how-dumb-are-you?" look.

Harry stared at him. It was like looking at a paler, blond, slightly less masculine Hermione.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Potter? It's true. Haven't you ever read _Hogwarts, a History_?"

Harry could not hold it any longer and burst out laughing. "You're Hermione!"

"Don't call me that! Shut up!" cried Malfoy in a high-pitched voice that made Harry guffaw even louder.

Malfoy got up from the table and folded his arms over his chest. "I am _not_ girlish!" he snapped and went to sit on the window seat, farther from Harry.

Eventually Harry managed to calm down, and dried his tears of mirth. Malfoy was sitting engulfed in sunlight from the window behind him, and it made his frame seem even smaller and more fragile than normal. His bottom lip was sticking out in a pout. He appeared truly affronted.

Harry almost felt guilty. He decided trying for a truce. "Listen, we're getting too old for this. Why won't we try being civil to each other and make Snape and McGonagall happy?"

An indifferent "Whatever" and a small shrug was all the answer he received.


	3. The Power of Pink

**Disclaimer:** the lyrics are by Faithless (_God is a DJ_), and the boys belong to J K Rowling. I'm just the evil drug dealer.

**Rating:** R

**Pairings:** Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Summary:** Two young boys, one last fight, two little pills called Ecstasy and one long detention.

**Warnings:** Slash, drug-use, and (chemically induced) silly philosophy. Don't try this at home, kids!

**Thanks: **To my beta Rae – you are wonderful! And everyone who reviewed - it means a lot.

**Dedicated**** to:** All the little pills out there.

**Comments:** Please do! It's my first fic and I crave some constructive criticism.

**A/N:** Remember - they're not OOC, just high.

**Note**: written after OotP and before HBP.

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**The Power of Pink**

The next long minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence before Malfoy finally broke it.

"I'm bored," he said in a spoiled, whiny voice and looked expectantly at Harry. "Do something interesting," he commanded.

"What d'you want me to do? Dance?"

Malfoy ignored the sarcasm. "Great idea, Potter. After seeing your performance at the Yule Ball, I just_ know _it will be amusing," he smirked.

"Forget it; I'm not here to entertain you."

"It's not fair," said Malfoy, sounding like Dudley on a diet. "Crabbe and Goyle always do dumb stuff to entertain me."

"They don't do it for you - dumb is just the way they naturally are," Harry corrected.

Malfoy did not argue.

"You're wearing your robes," Harry stated. "Don't you have anything in your pockets? Like miniature chess or something we can pass the time with?" he asked hopefully. He himself was wearing only an old white T-shirt and his worst pair of jeans, both Dudley's hand-me-downs. He hated looking so sloppy in front of Malfoy, but he thought he was going to spend the detention on his hands and knees, cleaning and scrubbing, and dressed accordingly.

Malfoy hopped off the window seat and emptied his pockets, displaying all he had on the table near Harry. He had a handful of gold Galleons, a small finely decorated round mirror - _how surprising_, Harry thought cynically and tried not to laugh - a box of Chocolate Frogs, and some Dungbombs they both preferred _not _to play with inside this small confining room.

Harry eyed the Chocolate Frogs hungrily, but Malfoy noticed and snatched it protectively. He opened the wrapper, peeked at the Famous Wizard Card, scowled, and chucked it on the floor. Then he ate the frogs, making _very_ disturbing throaty sounds that let Harry know precisely what he was missing and causing his mouth to water.

Harry tried to ignore it and picked up the discarded card. He gasped as he saw his own face staring back at him. He knew he was on a card, but never saw one before. It was extremely rare. Even Ron, who had a huge collection, did not have it. "Can I keep it?" he asked hopefully.

"You really are in love with yourself, aren't you?" Malfoy asked in disgust.

"_No_. I just never got that card," Harry answered honestly.

"Really? I _always _get that one," Malfoy said in a way that suggested it was all a big conspiracy against him. "Though I must admit it's perfect to practice my _'Incendio'_ on."

Harry brushed aside the image of himself bursting into flames. "So, can I have it?" he asked again.

"Fine," Malfoy sighed grievously. "I don't have my wand here, so I can't burn it anyway."

"Thanks." _Ron is going to be so jealous._

"What about you, Potter, don't you have anything interesting in those despicable Muggle trousers of yours?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Er. Something interesting in my trousers?" he repeated, mind suddenly blank. Well, blank except for the dirty images.

"I was not talking about _that_, Potter! Pull your scarred head out of the gutter," Malfoy chided. Then he made a show of looking up and down Harry's body and snorted. "Besides, I highly doubt what you have in there is in any way interesting," he drawled.

Harry mentally cursed his adolescent brain and took out the only two things he had in his pockets: an article about Firebolts he cut from the _Daily Prophet_ during the summer, and the pills Dudley gave him for his birthday.

He completely forgot about those.

"What's that?" Malfoy asked, extracting the pills from the cling film and into his hand.

"It's a Muggle thing. Pills. My cousin gave it to me."

Malfoy poked them suspiciously with his finger. "And what do the dim-witted Muggles do with it?"

Harry ignored the comment, wary of initiating another argument. "That's how Muggles take medications and... stuff," he did not know whether wizards have an equivalent to illegal drugs or not. "They swallow it and it works like potions do," he explained

"And then what? What does it _do_?" Draco asked impatiently

"Well, I never tried that kind before. They're not exactly... er... _legal_."

Malfoy's head snapped up - _that _piqued his interest.

"All I know is, it's a drug that's supposed to make you very happy," Harry added.

"But there's no such potion that can make you happy," Malfoy argued pointedly.

"Then Muggles have something wizards don't," Harry shrugged. "Maybe they deserve more credit than you give them."

Malfoy looked skeptic. "So does it wear off?"

"My cousin said it only lasts for about four hours or so."

"There is a picture engraved on it. It looks like a crown... or a bird's footprint..." Malfoy tilted his head and squinted at the pills. "Or maybe the number three... No, a letter - an E?"

"Oh yeah, it must be an E," said Harry. "The name of this drug is _Ecstasy_."

Malfoy's eyes glinted - he definitely liked the name. He threw one of the pills at Harry, a little disappointed when Harry expertly caught it in mid air. "Take it," he demanded. "I wanna see what it does."

"No way! I'm not your guinea pig, take it yourself."

Malfoy explained slowly as you would to a child, "You will take one and if nothing bad happens to you, I'll take the other one."

Harry _wanted_ to try it. He wondered how being happy would feel like. He knew he felt it before, there was a fogged memory of it hidden somewhere in his brain, but that was before the world exploded in his face and all hope died. Died like everything else in his life. He had not truly smiled in so long, he was sure the muscles around his mouth and cheeks had already atrophied.

"How about we both take it together? At the same time?" Harry offered. He knew he probably should not, it was illegal and he had no idea how it would affect him. But really, how much could a tiny little thing like that do, anyway? Plus, it was _pink_. And pink things could never be dangerous, right?

Malfoy considered for a moment, but eventually agreed.

Harry filled two goblets with pumpkin juice and handed one to Malfoy. "Ready?"

They took a deep breath, popped the pill in their mouths, made sure the other was doing the same, and swallowed with a gulp of juice.

"It didn't work," Malfoy stated immediately.

"Give it some time," Harry laughed, "it's not like magic; let it reach your stomach and melt first."

"I always knew Muggles were slow..." Malfoy murmured.

**-o-o-o-**

They sat and waited for more than half an hour before Harry noticed... _something_. There was something different, so subtle he was not sure it was more than mere imagination. The room around him was more vibrant, the colours sharper, and… he could feel his teeth? How bizarre… he could not remember ever feeling his teeth before.

The temperature seemed to have dropped, even though the sun was still shining brightly, and dread plunged Harry's mind. _What have I done? What if something goes wrong? I'm locked here alone with Malfoy!_

He looked at Malfoy sitting on a table before him - he was hugging himself and shivering violently. Just as abruptly as it came, his own fears vanished and were replaced with worry. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I feel queasy," Malfoy answered in a tiny voice. "Make it stop."

Harry's stomach was a little sensitive as well a few minutes earlier but it disappeared so quickly, he hardly noticed it. "It's OK," he said tenderly. "Take a deep breath and try to think of something else. You will feel better, I promise," he tried to reassure.

Things were changing rapidly around Harry, even though the shapes themselves remained the same. It was as if he forgot his glasses in the morning and now, after accustoming to see all blurry, putting them back on, bringing the world into focus. And it was not just his sight – all his other senses seemed enhanced. He became aware of everything: the wind in his hair and the whistling of it in his ears, the aroma of the food in the air and its taste on his tongue, the hardness of the wooden table he was sitting on, and his speeding heartbeats. He was also very aware of Malfoy's movements: his chest rising as he was breathing deeply, how his hands clutched his knees, and the way he kept blinking as if to make sure what he was seeing was real.

Soon Malfoy's eyes cleared and he seemed to relax. "I think it's starting to work. Can you feel it too?" he asked, sounding a lot more enthusiastic.

"Yeah," Harry nodded vigorously. He was not sure what, but _feel_ was a good word to describe it.

A hooting sound came from outside and captured Harry's attention. The sound made spiralling loops around his brain like an endless tune, and he wanted to see the owl that made it, needing to thank it for the music.

He stood up and made to walk towards the window.

…And then it started.

His feet were like helium-filled balloons. Every time his foot touched the stone floor it bounced back, as light as air, sending him shooting towards the ceiling. Walking never felt so wonderful, the movement effortless, so carefree. He completely forgot about the owl, now far away above the Forbidden Forest, and turned to Malfoy who was sitting and swaying his legs restlessly.

"You must get up! It's brilliant, like walking on clouds." It was hard to speak with the huge grin now decorating his face.

Malfoy stood up, and from the matching expression, he enjoyed the experience as much as Harry did.

And somehow, knowing that, made Harry's lips stretch even wider.

"It's better than Fizzing Whizbees!" Malfoy announced.

"It's even better than a Cheering Charm," added Harry.

And it really was. Better than anything he had ever experienced.

They marched back and forth inside the little room, enjoying the sensation and beaming at each other, occasionally bumping into tables and telling them "sorry".

Harry's body buzzed with joy, his fingertips tingled, his eyes were wiggling in a way that would have worried him any other time but right now he thought was funny, and pleasant shivers glided down his spine as wave after wave of exhilarating energy washed through him. His blood was made of liquid ice, but he was not cold - he was _alive_. He could feel it flowing inside his veins, feeding every little cell and pore like a miraculous machine, working non-stop just to keep him breathing.

And he was thankful.

For the first time in so long he was alive - and glad for it. The feeling was so brutally intense and overwhelming he had to sit down. He landed on the window seat and concentrated solely on inhaling and exhaling, letting the air that was now so tangible he could bite into it, filling his mind and lifting him higher.

Malfoy was still parading in front of him, lifting his feet as high as he could, and giggling like a schoolgirl. The sound was vibrating in Harry's head, merging with the wind and his thoughts, composing a melody that would forever remain in his ears.

He repeated the name in his head, _Malfoy_. It did not fit this boy at all. Malfoys are cold and hard and evil, the name tasted wrong on his tongue. It was a funny name, anyway,_ Malll-foy_. "Can I call you Draco?" he asked. _Yes, that name fits much better_, he thought.

"Right now you can call me a Weasley and I wouldn't mind," Malfoy laughed.

"I think I prefer Draco. And maybe you can call me Harry?"

"OK, _Harry_."

Hearing his first name brought a deeper sense of closeness and Harry was delighted.

The sun was warm on the back of his neck as Harry leaned back on the glass, watching the cracks in the ceiling winking at him fondly, and listening to that special music - letting it flow over him as he was floating peacefully in a sea of serenity.

It was as if space itself changed its form. Becoming deeper, curved, wider… and taking Harry's head with it.

All of a sudden he realised it was not the world that changed - it was himself. And he would never be the same again. He knew he was now the _true_ Harry, the one whom had been crammed into the dark cupboard of his mind, locked away behind a wall of false smiles, and a pretence of toughness. The doubts and guilt that were suffocating his soul were gone, letting the real Harry shine through. Allowing him to live, love and believe. To be a child again.

He was_ reborn_.

It was a glorious feeling of being complete and whole; all masks were off, like coming back home after long years of exile. He vowed never to be lost again.

He closed his eyes. _Life is good_.

Harry was basking in pure happiness, watching the shapes and colours on the screen of his closed eyelids swirling and shifting like a kaleidoscope, when he heard the sweetest voice...

"Are you all right?"

He looked up to see the kind caring face of Draco looking down at him.

"I'm more than all right," Harry said. "This is amazing."

Draco sat beside him, smiling. "It really _is_ amazing. I think I'm... _happy._" He said it like it was the first time he ever felt that way.

The energetic sensation from before subsided a little and instead a sense of tranquillity took over and Harry's mind calmed. Staring into someone else's face made him pensive and thoughtful. He wanted to talk, to share, and he had the most peculiar urge to be honest…

"I'm really glad you're happy." Harry said. He did not know why, but it was true - his own well being depended on Draco's happiness.

They gazed into each other's eyes. Draco's were big and glossy, almost completely black, and sparkled with thousands little stars just like the night sky - a doorway into the universe of his soul. Harry was mesmerised; he could not even blink.

"I'm sorry for all the nasty things I've done to you," Draco apologised quietly and startled Harry out of his haze.

"Don't be." There was no trace of anger in Harry's heart. "You kept pushing me, and it's what forced me to be the best I could. And you were _constant_, always there. I remember your face in every significant point of my life... You were even the first wizard my age I'd met. Remember? At Madam Malkin's"

Draco nodded.

Harry almost forgot about that fact, and now that he remembered, he felt some kind of a mystical bond between the two of them. Something _destined._

"There is a reason for all of it," Harry stated. The words seemed to materialise by themselves and stream out of his mouth without thinking, the knowledge emerging from deep inside him, or maybe from the entire world around. It was the same; every part of his being was connected - his heart, body, and mind - connected to each other and to everything else.

"We all have a mission to complete here," he continued, "and it's not a task we are obligated to execute - it's _who we are_. But it's not _all_ we are, just a small fraction. I'm not just 'The Famous Harry Potter' - I'm Ron and Hermione's best friend, I love flying, I'm crap at Potions, I'm doing drugs with you…" he laughed. "And all those things are not less important than being 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', because they are what makes me _me_." Things started to clear in his head as he listened to himself speak.

"Everything is connected: me, you, this room, the sun, the lake, all existence. The universe is a living being and we are all parts of it. Like the cells and organs of our bodies that work together, doing different tasks for one single purpose, we do our parts to keep this being, which is actually _us_, alive. Fighting Voldemort is not something I have to do because Dumbledore said so. I'm not a pawn, I see it now. But I _am_ going to fight Voldemort some day and I'll be doing it because _I_ choose to, because it's who I am."

The hatred he had felt for himself and others, the depression and the consuming dread that had been dragging him down ever since hearing the prophecy, were entirely gone. An enormous weight lifted off his heart as he finally understood - he was free.

"Do I make sense?" he asked Draco who was staring at him, speechless.

"Yes." It was a simple answer, and yet all Harry needed to hear.

Draco looked down at his hands. "At least you know who you are and what you're going to do. I don't know anymore," he whispered.

"Just be yourself and you could do anything." It was a cliché, but it made sense and seemed so simple to Harry now.

Draco raised his eyes to meet Harry's. "It was supposes to be easy. I was going to be rich, successful and respectable, just like my father." His face fell. "And then he got himself caught and it's all lost now. I was destined to be a Death Eater, but I don't want to. I refuse to end up like my father, wasting my life and freedom for someone else. I kneel to no one" he added proudly with his head held up high. "Besides, the Dark Lord is a hypocrite - preaches against half-breeds and Mudbloods while he himself is not even a pure-blood! His father was a common _Muggle_, did you know?"

"Yes." Of course he knew - Voldemort himself told him. "So the reason you won't be a Death Eater is not the mask and the tattoo like you told me earlier?" Harry asked.

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "That's just what I tell everyone so they'll stop bugging me and won't think I'm a blood traitor. The Dark Lord doesn't deserve my worship, or going to Azkaban for. That man had sixty years of practice and experience, and still he failed killing an eleven-year-old Muggle-raised boy. _You_. And he kept on failing ever since."

Draco looked at Harry as if he was seeing him for the first time. "Funny I never thought of it before, but if anyone deserves my following," he inclined his head, "...it's you."

Harry's heart swelled in his chest. What Draco had said made him feel so powerful and confident, if Voldemort was there at that moment, Harry would have defeated him easily. "Thanks," he said. "It means a lot to me."

That was an understatement.

Draco looked thoroughly stunned by his own confession. Harry suspected Draco was suffering from the same case of compelling honesty he was, otherwise he would have never admitted those things.

Looking out at the grounds below them, they could see their fellow students walking lazily on the path to Hogsmeade.

"Do you still wish you could Apparate out of here?" asked Draco.

Harry realised he did not. He was fully content on staying in that room forever. Staying with Draco. "No," he answered. "I like it here." He watched as the pink lips before him smiled. "...Pretty."

"Yes, it _is_ a pretty room," said Draco. His eyes were darting around and could not seem to focus on one thing for too long. "When we came in, I thought it was dull and filthy, but now I see how wrong I was. I mean, look at it - it's shimmering with magic. Oh, and have you seen all the wooden furniture?" He leaned to whisper in Harry's ear, "They're _breathing_."

Harry looked at the blackboard. Draco was right! It was pulsing, breathing like a living creature. "Wow..." he marvelled in wonder.

Draco nodded in agreement. "And all the dirt - it's not necessarily a bad thing, you know. Maybe the dust is covering the floor to protect it. Maybe it _loves_ the floor. It's quite romantic really." He sighed.

Listening to Draco talking about the relationship between the dust and the floor was too surreal. Harry smiled. He never believed him the romantic type.

"Everything looks so beautiful," Draco carried on. "This room, the walls, my shoes, your clothes, that tree." He pointed outside at a willow tree. "And that one." He pointed at another. "And that one, too!"

Harry watched in amusement as Draco was pointing excitedly at every tree he spotted. However hard he tried, he could not stop grinning. That was no doubt the cutest thing he had ever seen.

"...And look at the really tall one over there," Draco kept going, now pressing his nose and palms against the glass of the lower sealed part of the window. "And..." he stopped and frowned. "Isn't that your friends?" He pointed at the unmistakable red head following another bushy one.

Harry looked down and saw Ron and Hermione walking together to Hogsmeade.

"I used to be jealous of them," Harry blurted, having a sudden urge to confess something he was so ashamed of, that he never even admitted to himself. It was clear to him his two best friends were meant to be together, and he dreaded the moment Ron would finally get a clue and it would come to happen. Leaving him, Harry, outside and alone; a pathetic fifth wheel. "But I'm not jealous anymore," he said. He found all the torturous envy dissipated, replaced by acceptance and a hope that maybe one day he too would find that special someone. "I love them both so much and I want them to be happy. They deserve each other," he said sincerely.

"Don't worry, you'll have your turn," Draco said confidently and Harry knew he would never be alone.

**-o-o-o-**

_This is my church_

This is where I heal my hurts

It's a natural grace

Of watching young life shape

It's in minor keys

Solutions and remedies

Enemies becoming friends

When bitterness ends

**-o-o-o-**


	4. The Hug Drug

**Summery:** Two young boys, one last fight, two little pills called Ecstasy, and one long detention.

**Warnings: **Drug use, and (chemically induced) fluff...

**Dedicated to:** Everyone who reviewed. It means a lot, Thank you!

**Beta:** By Rae - thanks for all your patience. And special thanks to Crazy Kitty42!

**Disclaimer:** The lyrics are by Depeche Mode (_Only When I Lose Myself_), and the boys belong to JKR. I'm just the naughty drug dealer.

**A/N:** Remember - they're not OOC, just high. Everything you read is from Harry's (slightly distorted) POV.

Reviews and concrit (please feel free to be honest - I have thick skin) are very very appreciated!

* * *

**The "Hug Drug"**

0-0-0

_It's only when I lose myself in someone else_

_ That I find myself_

0-0-0

"Harry?" Draco asked some time later, his voice slightly nervous. 

"Yes?"

"I think I don't feel it anymore. Do you?"

Now that Draco mentioned it, Harry did feel less elated than before. It scared him. _It can't be over, not yet. Please don't let it be over_.

"Oh no, you can't feel it either!" Draco was on the verge of hysteria, his voice high-pitched and his eyes wide. "Do you have another pill? Please, I want more. _Please_, Harry," he pleaded helplessly.

The growing panic clutched at Harry's throat. "I don't have more!" he yelled hopelessly. It did not make sense. He looked at the clock - it had not even been two hours yet since they took the pills, and Dudley said it would last _four _hours. His mind was reeling searching for an explanation; they must have done something wrong.

The Ecstasy was still there; he could feel it lurking beneath the surface, like driving down a side road after taking a wrong turn, but still hearing the sounds of the busy motorway in the air. All he needed was to find a way back up there.

"It can't be over," Harry said, determined. He stood up from the window seat and started pacing, rubbing his hands together while thinking of a way to get the drugs working again.

_Wait, that's unusual_. He looked down at his hands, still moving slowly against each other. The skin felt rough. And smooth. He could not tell which, but either way - he liked it.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco. His eyes were exceptionally bright and he appeared to be close to tears.

"Come," Harry said, beaming as he held his right hand to help Draco up.

As Draco took his hand and they touched for the first time since taking the drugs, a shot of excitement surged through Harry and he could not let go of Draco. He moved his hand around so Draco's palm would face up, and with the fingertips of his left started stroking it, slowly tracing each crease, tracking each line: life, head, and heart.

Draco gasped.

"See? I told you it's not over," said Harry, still stroking, delighted with the dazed nod and agreeing murmur he got in response.

Draco's eyes were glowing as though someone had cast _'Lumos'_ inside him, following the movements of Harry's index finger and thumb as they traveled up and down each long elegant finger, from tip to base. His skin was snowy white and so smooth to the touch, like fine china, and Harry found himself entranced by it.

No, it was _definitely_ not over.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when Draco used his free hand to tenderly scrape his nails over the inner side of Harry's stretched right forearm, from the sensitive spot at the crook of his elbow, all the way down to his wrist and then back again, leaving a trail of screaming nerve endings behind.

Harry was not used to this - being touched. In the ten years of living with the Dursleys, the only physical attention he received was as Dudley's punching bag. Even here at Hogwarts there were only a few friendly hugs from Hermione, and occasionally the motherly ones of Mrs Weasley. But this… this was so very different. He did not know how much he craved this... this human contact, he did not even know he needed it and now he could not seem to have enough.

"Your skin feels amazing," Draco said in awe, his hand now trailing up Harry's arm to the fabric of his short sleeve. "And also your shirt," Draco added. Harry had never felt anything like that; his skin was so sensitive it was as if Draco was caressing his very core.

Then Draco withdrew his hands and smoothed them over his own robes. "Wow! It's not just you, my clothes feel _wonderful_," he said.

A sudden pang pierced Harry's heart at Draco's words. Deep down he knew it was silly, that Draco did not mean to hurt him, but it still stung. He wanted Draco to keep touching _him_ and he wanted Draco to think _he_ was wonderful too.

Draco ran his hands over his own robes, his face, his blond hair…

Harry tried to look away. He was jealous, but did not know whom or what he was jealous of.

"You must try it!" said Draco and reached up to push his fingers through Harry's hair.

And just like that, everything was fine with the world again, all negative emotions gone in a heartbeat. Forgotten. An indescribable sensation shot through Harry, like electric currents moving rapidly up and down his body from head to toes. Draco's fingers were leaving imprints of themselves wherever they touched, as if hundreds of ghostly fingers massaged Harry's skull. Harry lowered his head for easier access and moaned in gratification.

"You like it, don't you?" Draco teased.

"Mmm… yeah…"

"You can return the favour, you know," Draco said.

Harry did not need any further invitation - Draco's hair always fascinated him. From the first time he laid eyes on Draco, he was captivated by its uniqueness and ethereal colour. Sometimes when they played Quidditch against each other, Harry would find himself watching as rays of sunshine reflected off those silvery strands, completely forgetting about the Snitch.

He took a deep breath and reached his hand to touch the blond locks, only to retract it hastily and take a startled step back when within a single movement the tightly pulled-back hair loosened and fell lightly around Draco's head, the front strands running down his cheeks toward the chin and framing his face.

Draco laughed at Harry's shock. "It's OK; you just broke the charm I used for styling."

"Charm? I always thought you use some kind of gel… and that it will be all sticky… and hard…" Harry babbled, not able to take his eyes off Draco's new hairdo.

"_Gel_? What's that? And why would it be sticky? My hair is not sticky!"

"It's just a Muggle thing, your hair is not sticky at all, it's… it's quite nice actually. Even prettier when it's like…" Harry waved in the direction of Draco's head, "_that_."

"Father hates it when I let it down like that; says I look like a girl."

Harry snorted. "He's the one who wears _bows_ in his hair," he said and Draco snickered. It made Harry proud of himself.

Harry stepped closer to Draco and passed his fingers through his hair. It was incredible - fluid and gleaming like strings of water. It reminded Harry of the texture of his Invisibility Cloak. He raked his nails gently over Draco's scalp as he knew would feel good, and was awarded with a murmur of pleasure. He did it again.

"I take back everything bad I've ever said about Muggles," Draco said in atonement. "Oh God, I can see why they call this thing Ecstasy." His eyes rolled back in bliss.

"I know," Harry agreed. "It's almost too good to be real. I can't believe I haven't tried it sooner. I feel like I've wasted sixteen years when all I needed to be happy was to swallow one little pill." He was grateful Dudley gave him this present; he never felt as close to his cousin as he did now.

"But why did the Muggles make it illegal?" Draco asked and bowed his head in encouragement for Harry to keep his ministrations.

"I can't understand it either. If it was up to me," Harry mused, "I would have put it in the water supply so everyone could share it. Just imagine - it can stop crime. And wars!"

"Maybe someone should give it to the Dark Lord," Draco chuckled, "that would be a funny sight."

"Yeah, somebody should."

Draco glanced at him through his fringe, biting his lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring him up again," he apologised.

"It's OK." Harry shrugged. "I don't care about him right now," he said, and brushed loose strands of hair from Draco's glinting eyes.

"Good." Draco raised his head and returned to fondle Harry's black mane.

Harry put his hands on the small of Draco's back, pressed both index fingers to the base of his spine, and dragged them slowly upwards. Draco arched his back and snuggled closer.

"Like it, don't you?" Harry asked teasingly as Draco did before.

"Mmhmm…" Draco hummed into his shoulder as Harry repeated the movement.

Draco's arms wrapped about Harry's neck and Harry tightened his own arms around Draco's waist, pulling him into his embrace.

Incredible warmth spread in Harry's body and for a second he thought he might cry. His emotions were so raw and strong and clear, they were practically radiating from his skin. There was something incredibly holy and purifying in their hug, a kind of comfort he had never known before, that left him breathless. It was the most satisfying feeling; new channels of empathy and acceptance opening in his mind as their essences combined.

Harry did not want to ruin the magical profound moment, but he needed to say something. He moved his head back, just enough so he could look into Draco's eyes.

"Thank you," they both whispered at the same time. Then laughed at the corny emotional outburst they shared.

Neither noticed nor cared the fact they, only a couple of hours and a pill ago two sworn enemies, were still clinging desperately to each other.

They spent the next minutes - or hours, they were too overjoyed to care - chatting about flying and food and school, and about what the future held for them. Harry was optimistic, confident that any potential outcome was going to be a positive one.

Then Draco discovered that if he bowed his neck low enough, blood would flow to his head, making it pleasantly heavy. Harry more than once had to catch him when he became too dizzy and lost his balance. Though he did not stop Draco from doing it again… they both seemed to keep making up excuses for contact, cuddling in every opportunity they had. Their touches were intimate and sensual, but always innocent and never sexual - like divine bodiless souls fusing together in space and time.

Harry concluded that the more they moved the more fun they had, and told Draco who immediately began jumping up and down and flapping his arms. So Harry followed suit. The huge ear-to-ear grins never left their faces and they laughed like mad, so loud that owls came to stare at them through the window. This of course only made them laugh harder.

Time lost all meaning and Harry believed they would stay that way forever. They were beyond the laws of physics - the real world too slow, too _low_, to reach them.

The drug had a wavy kind of effect to it that they now learned to recognise without panicking as they did the first time. At times, it would go all speedy, filling them with pulsing energy that made them bounce around, ecstatic and wild. And then, quite without warning, it would change - the rush would still completely and they would find themselves drifting back into each other's arms, hands mussing hair, massaging backs… Content in being held, being touched and just… _being_.

The sun climbed higher in the sky and they were hot and sweaty. "I have an idea," Draco said, lifting his hand as if answering something in class. "We can keep ourselves cool like dogs do." He opened his mouth, hanged out his tongue, and started panting rapidly. He looked insane. _But cute, _Harry had to admit to himself.

It did not take long before Draco began coughing. "_Not_ a good idea," he rasped. "I'm parched."

"Oh, right, I nearly forgot!" Harry cried in alarm. "We need to drink!" he suddenly recalled hearing about kids who took Ecstasy and died of dehydration. A maternal instinct he did not know he possessed took over and he dragged Draco to the food table. "What do you want? Water? Pumpkin juice?" he asked anxiously.

Draco shrugged. "I dunno."

"You _must_ drink! I don't want you dying on me!" Harry did not think he was overreacting at all. "So what will it be?"

"Er…" Draco looked at the ceiling and frowned "…jjjjuice," he finally decided.

Harry poured quickly and handed it to him.

Draco took one gulp, and immediately spat it back in the goblet and returned it to Harry. "Bah," he announced and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Harry filled the second goblet with water. "Here, try this." He gave it to Draco and poured more water for himself.

Draco took a small wary sip, and then emptied the entire content into his throat. "Much better," he said and seized the other goblet just as it reached Harry's lips, and drank that one as well. Harry did not mind; he found he liked playing the mummy.

When Draco had enough to quench his thirst, Harry managed to drink too. It was strange at first, as if he somehow forgot how to swallow. But when he did swallow, he understood why Draco liked it - it was cold and refreshing, and he enjoyed how he could follow the water's exact route down his belly.

"I love water; I'll never drink anything else," Draco stated decisively. Then he walked back to the window. "I wish we could go swimming in the lake… lots of water there."

Harry walked over to him and patted his back. "We can go some other time," he said. "Meanwhile the closest thing you have is the sink," he joked and sat down.

"Oh, right, the sink!" Draco turned and disappeared through the toilet door.

Harry smiled at his enthusiasm and waited. After what felt like forever since Draco left, he began to worry. Not to mention he was missing him dearly. His new and a-little-exaggerated maternal instinct did not make things any better. _He could drown,_ he thought, and rushed to the rescue.

The toilet door was slightly ajar so Harry pushed it and went inside. As it turned out, Draco did not need saving after all. He was bent over the sink with his head under the tap, water running over his hair, turning the blond a shade darker and trickling down his neck, soaking the collar of his robes.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

Draco straightened as he heard Harry's voice, and shook his head quickly from side to side, wet blond strands flying around, sprinkling droplets of water all over the place. "It's fun!" He grinned and motioned for Harry to come closer.

He laid his hands on Harry's cheeks, and Harry gasped. Draco's palms were wet and cold, and made each hair on his body stand on end. He shivered as Draco stroked his face, his neck, his arms. Streaming sensation had begun to flow through his muscles, awakening his body and bringing back the thrill of the Ecstasy. With Draco's encouragement, he removed his glasses and put his head beneath the cascading torrent, letting it wash away his thoughts and tickle his skin while Draco's chilly hand sneaked under his shirt and up his spine, activating pleasant explosions at each vertebra.

After a while, Draco tried to push Harry away from the sink. "My turn to get wet," he said in an imitation of his old whiny tone.

Harry had an idea. "As you wish," he said, gathered water in his joined hands, and threw it on Draco.

Draco yelped and Harry froze, worried that Draco was going to be angry with him. But then Draco pounced, shoved Harry to the wall, and splashed him with handful after handful of cold water. It was Harry's time to scream, but he was also immensely relived to know that Draco was not cross with him. He inched back to the sink, eyes closed against the squirt, and began splashing back.

They giggled and squealed and shrieked, each trying to get the other as drenched as possible, until Draco slipped on the huge puddle that was once a floor and fell flat on his back on the wet stone. He kept on laughing.

Harry seized the opportunity and sat on his legs, straddling him and efficiently holding him down. He caught Draco's arms, pinning them at his sides, and leaned forward. "Do you surrender?" he asked playfully.

"Yes, yes, I surrender," Draco managed between chuckles. "What do you think I am, a stubborn Gryffindor?"

"Oh, shut up," Harry mock-scolded and swatted Draco lightly on the back of his hand. He stood up and helped Draco to his feet.

"My arse feels cold." Draco turned around peering over his shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to see his own back, like a dog chasing his tail. "Does it look wet to you?"

"Probably is, just like the rest of you," Harry answered cheerfully. He grabbed Draco's waist and walked him outside the toilet and into the sunlight pouring from the window.

Harry shivered. His sodden T-shirt was getting colder by the minute and clung to his skin. So he peeled it off.

"Do you mind if I'll take off my robes too?" Draco asked. "I… I'm not wearing any other clothes beneath."

"Ah?" was Harry's intelligent respond to that news.

"Don't worry, I'm not completely starkers, I have my underwear."

"Oh, OK." For some reason, Harry was not very cold anymore.

Draco stripped off his robes and threw them carelessly on a table. He had his back to Harry and Harry found himself ogling. Draco was left wearing only his black boots and underwear. Only Draco did not wear normal underwear. His were made of some black velvety fabric, were impossibly tight, and reached just below his knees.

Draco must have seen him staring when he turned around. "Do you like it? It cost a _fortune_. Not many people can afford that kind of thing."

Harry was relieved to realise Draco was asking if he liked his undergarment and not… something else.

"It was especially moulded to my body," Draco continued to explain. "With a charm to make it fit perfectly so there's no need for stitches or elastic-bands or anything." He patted his hips to emphasise. "It's _extremely_ comfortable."

Harry had to agree it really _was_ fitting perfectly. Like thick second skin. Not showing every intimate detail, but still enabling him to see every curve and every bump of Draco's body. He quickly looked back to Draco's face instead.

"You're not as skinny as I imagined," Draco said. Perhaps Harry was not the only one staring…

After discovering his prophesied destiny, Harry no longer felt like a child and hated still looking like one. He trained and exercised, and was no longer the scrawny boy he used to be. He was not very muscular either, but his chest was a bit more defined than before, his shoulders wider, and his arms stronger. "I've been working out," he said, glad that Draco noticed.

Draco walked over to him. "And you're not hairy, either." He said. He caressed Harry's chest lightly and Harry nearly forgot how to breathe.

"Neither are you," Harry said and mirrored Draco's actions. Draco was completely smooth; even that little trail below the navel, the only thing Harry had, was absent.

"Yeah," Draco placed his hand on top of Harry's and entwined their fingers so they were caressing his chest together, "and I prefer it that way."

Harry had been frustrated when he had arrived back at Hogwarts and discovered most of his Housemates had already started shaving while he did not have a trace of bristles yet. Even Neville had chest hair by now. _But Draco prefers it that way… maybe being hairless was not so bad_.

Harry noticed Draco was shivering and thought he was cold, so he gathered him into his arms. The embrace was even more incredible now without the clothes to separate them. Albeit they were both cold and slightly wet, once they touched skin-to-skin sparkles ignited between them, and satisfying tenderness spread through Harry's insides. The amphetamines were dancing in his brain, accelerating his bloodstream and filling his mind with sweet euphoria as he rubbed Draco's back and arms in quick movements, trying to stop his quivering.

Draco buried his face in the hollow of Harry's neck. His hair had the fragrance of daffodils and the scent filled Harry's nostrils. He breathed it in deeply and closed his eyes, and in his mind they were transported into a blossoming sunny field, just him and Draco forever beneath the wide blue sky. Little drops of water trickled from Draco's hair to tickle Harry's collarbone and it felt like the summer rain on their mental trip to wonderland. Harry was lost in Draco and yet it was the closest he had ever felt to himself.

A soft humming sound vibrated through Harry's body and he opened his eyes. It was coming from Draco. "Are you _purring_?" he asked.

"No…" Draco murmured into his shoulder and Harry could feel him smiling against the naked skin.

Harry slowed his movements, his fingertips kneading into Draco's flesh, massaging his muscles and eliciting more of those delicious purrs.

Draco's hair was almost dry by now and his body was slack and limp against his. "Are you tired?" Harry asked.

"No, not at all," Draco looked at him. "Are you?" he asked worriedly, a frown appearing between his eyebrows.

"No." In fact, it felt as if there were toothpicks stuck in his eyelids, keeping them wide open. Sleeping seemed like a farfetched idea.

"Oh, oops. Sorry," Draco said bashfully. He lifted his hands and started imitating Harry's actions by massaging his back. "I wasn't being tired, it's just that… I'm a little bit lazy," he admitted.

"Don't worry, I was enjoying myself anyway," Harry reassured and squeezed Draco's waist before releasing him. "But now I need to go use the loo." He turned around and walked towards the toilet.

"Wait!" Draco called and Harry turned to see him, body hunched forwards, one leg across the other, and hands over his groin. "But I have to go now, too!" he cried, looking like a helpless toddler.

Harry could not help being amused by Draco's childish behaviour. Before today, before he truly came to know Draco, he considered it a flaw. But now he learned to accept it as a part of who Draco was, one of the many things that made him so unique. He even started seeing it as endearing - charming in a Draco-ish kind of way. "You can go in first," he said and opened the door for Draco like a perfect gentleman.

When Draco came out of the toilet, he had a huge grin on his face. "I really _really_ love this pill thingy," he stated.

Harry was happily surprised to discover that even peeing felt great - warm and fuzzy somehow, like snoozing. He tried to remember if it was always that good, but eventually he just let it go because _all that matters is the Here and Now_. What an epiphany…

When he finished, he found Draco standing in front of the window with his back to him. He watched as particles of sunlight danced happily on the edges of Draco's hair like an aura, making silver shine with gold. He came close behind him, moving his fingers through those yielding blond strands, breathing in the intoxicating flowery scent and closing his eyes.

"I love your hair," he whispered behind Draco's ear. "Can I keep it?" he asked in a childish whine.

"Sorry," Draco chuckled. "It comes attached with the rest of me."

"I don't mind," Harry admitted and his hands sneaked around Draco, holding him closer against his chest.

Draco landed his head back on Harry's shoulder and his hand reached up to cradle Harry's cheek. "Then it's yours," he said, and in that moment Harry knew - this was love. Not the nauseating feeling in the stomach while looking at a pretty face like the one he had with Cho, and not the tales of cheap sexual conquests he heard from his Housemates. The real thing - _Love_ - pure and simple.

0-0-0 

_Something beautiful is happening inside for me  
Something sensual, it's full of fire and mystery  
I feel hypnotised, I feel paralysed  
I have found heaven_

0-0-0

Harry found himself sitting on the window seat, eyes fixed on Draco who was standing in front of him. He was magnificent as a Greek god: ivory skin shimmering in the sunlight, fair hair fluttering in the wind, eyes closed as he stretched - spreading his arms as if offering himself to the skies.

Harry could not resist…

As if to make sure the amazing creature before him was real, he reached out his right hand to Draco's sternum, moving it slowly and admiringly over the slick skin. Down his chest and lower, trailing adoring fingers down the path between the ribs, lower to the taut stomach, mapping each carve of the muscles he found there, and lower still… his attention drawn to the dark dimpled navel just below, his fingertips spiralling around it like a lost orbit.

Draco gasped, his lips parting just enough for Harry to get a glimpse of white teeth and the tip of a pink tongue.

"You're gorgeous," Harry stated.

"That's not what you told me before," Draco said. "You think I'm too feminine, remember?" He pouted.

"I lied," Harry admitted. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, hypnotised as the muscles flexed beneath his touch. His hand found its way to a hipbone and it astonished him how he never noticed before that hipbones were incredibly sensual. Or was it just Draco's hipbones? Almost reflexively, his hand closed around it and he pulled Draco closer.

Draco did not object. He came even nearer to stand between Harry's parted legs. "Do you really think so? That I'm gorgeous?" he asked and tilted his head to the side, exposing a long flawless neck and drawing Harry's greedy eyes to the pale skin.

"Oh, yes." The answer came as a mere breath as Draco chose that very moment to lift his left knee up to the window seat and place it on Harry's side.

"You're not too bad yourself," said Draco in a low voice Harry had never heard him use before.

For a change, Harry actually felt good with himself and his body, much better than he ever did, but he wanted to hear it from Draco, to get his approval. So he let all his insecurities rise and laid them before Draco to fix. "What about my horrible messy hair? And my glasses? ...And I'm way too short for my age." He pouted much the same as Draco had before. "Oh, and don't forget the scar on my forehead."

Draco peered down at him. "First of all, we're the same height, so you are _not_ short," he said pointedly.

Then Draco's gaze shifted and Harry followed it to the place his hand must have slipped at some point from Draco's hipbone to his thigh, where he was unconsciously caressing the velvet-covered skin.

Draco did not seem to mind, and Harry did not want to stop.

Fingers were weaving through his hair and Harry's eyelids drifted down. "Second, you have constant Quidditch-Hair. Some boys would kill to have that look, you know," Draco said a little enviously. He tried to smooth the black untamed hair down, and seemed very amused to watch it bounce up again at all directions.

The hand moved down from Harry's hair to his neck and onto his shoulder. Then a second hand came up on the other side as Draco balanced himself to raise his other knee to the window seat as well, straddling Harry.

Harry's eyes flew open and he gulped. He was suddenly very aware of their position, of the heat that spread everywhere their bodies touched, of the fact someone was now practically sitting in his lap, and how _good _that felt. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his drumming heart. The room became much hotter and his palms began to sweat.

Draco leaned back to get a better look at Harry's face. "Now those glasses..." He pursed his lips and shook his head. "They really are hideous," he said gravely. "But you know what the best part about them is? They can be taken of!" He yanked the offending article off Harry's face and tossed them distastefully to the other side of the seat.

Their eyes met, green reflecting in silver. Draco sighed as his gaze moved upwards to Harry's forehead. "As for that infamous scar..." he reached his index finger to tenderly trace the zigzag line and Harry stopped breathing from the intimacy of that simple touch. Draco leaned forward again, much closer than before. Silky blond locks tickled Harry's cheek and a hot breath ghosted over his ear. "If you ask me… I think scars are sexy," Draco whispered, his lips brushing lightly at Harry's earlobe, causing a tremor to run down his spine. At Draco's words, Harry's previous nervousness dissipated and was replaced by something new. Something primal and deeper, a strange warm tug at the pit of his stomach.

_Desire_.

Harry's mind was no longer able to control his movements, his body becoming simply an extension of his will. Draco's face was so close to his, their breaths mingling together, and Harry did the only thing he could at that moment. Something he never dreamed could happen.

He kissed Draco Malfoy.

Draco's lips had the most remarkable texture, full and squishy, and he responded immediately. It was not awkward like when Cho kissed him last year, not even when Draco had to cup Harry's cheeks and angle his head, so their noses would stop bumping. The kiss with her felt wrong, mechanical and cold. This kiss, with Draco... This kiss felt _right_. Natural. Flowing. As if everything that had ever happened between the two of them directed them to this perfect moment.

Harry's lips parted, his mouth moving on its own as though he had been doing this his entire life. He captured Draco's lower lip gently between his teeth and sucked it in, running his tongue over it, tasting and teasing while Draco's mouth opened and closed over his, occasionally letting his own tongue drag languidly over Harry's teeth.

Harry's hands moved up to entangle in Draco's hair and tilt his head further. He released Draco's lip from his mouth only to have it replaced by a velvety wet tongue that he met eagerly with his own, sliding it sensually against Draco's and chasing it into Draco's warm waiting mouth. Their kiss intensified, growing faster and deeper like a narcotic crave.

Draco's mouth left his and descended on his neck, sucking on his pulse point. Harry hissed as Draco's teeth grazed over his sensitive skin. He had never paid any attention to his neck and had no idea how erogenous it was. It was a very pleasant surprise. He roamed his hands over Draco's body - down his chest and waist, along the outside of his folded legs and inwards to scratch the firm thighs with his fingernail… around his hips and up his back, then moving lower… lower to where Draco's back curved outwards, and he reached round pliable flesh. Harry grasped it tightly and pulled Draco closer, causing him to groan and bite harder. They were pressed together from lips to hips, hearts beating against strong smooth bare chests, their bodies moulding like two halves of a divine whole.

Wet mouths, sharp teeth, and soft lips filled Harry's world. He had never felt anything like this. Never even dared to dream about it and now it was happening.

And so very fast.

Draco scratched at his back, leaving flaming trails wherever he touched as Harry stretched his lips over Draco's pale slender shoulder, biting and nibbling. Harry proceeded to trace Draco's collarbone with his open-mouthed kisses, tasting his skin and savouring the mild salty flavour until he reached the hollow at the base of Draco's throat. He flicked his tongue in and out, unconsciously following the pace of Draco's body as he rocked back and forth in Harry's lap, hips moving rhythmically, causing the most delicious friction and setting fire in his groin. Harry's heartbeat pounded away as a wave after wave of heat shot up through his stomach to the top of his head. He clutched at Draco's bum in encouragement as they kissed feverishly, breaths quickening as they lost themselves in the perfection of it all.

All the blood in Harry's body was rushing to the same place, leaving him light-headed and feeling high. Was it the drugs? Was it Draco? He could not tell anymore. And he did not care. Whatever it was - he was_ addicted_. To his ears, every sigh sounded like a declaration of love and every moan held the promise of forever.

Harry's head was pushed abruptly backwards and hit the glass window, but he could feel no pain. Draco roused on his knees and Harry looked up at him: he was panting heavily through his reddened parted lips, pale hair falling down his flushed cheeks, and the eyes...

Hungry.

_Hungry for him. _

Draco looked deep into his eyes and a moment later his hot mouth crushed into Harry's. Strong, demanding, _wanting_. Never in his life had Harry felt so needed, living most of his life being constantly reminded by the Dursleys what a burden he was to them. And now... now this amazing person was kissing him as if he was trying to steal the oxygen out his lungs. And he could feel just _how much_ Draco needed him by the hardness that was grinding keenly against his rib cage. It was surprisingly satisfying; knowing they both felt the same way, reacted the same way, their bodies synchronised. Harry ran his hands up and down the back of Draco's strong thighs, occasionally cupping and squeezing his buttocks - a place he declared to be his favourite place on earth. He arched his back, and pressed Draco to him, yearning to elicit more of those lustful gutturally sounds from that beautiful mouth, wanting to make him scream with pleasure. But Harry got something even better than that when Draco tipped his head back and what came out of his mouth was not a scream, but a husky whisper of one perfect single word - "_Harry_."

When Draco finally lowered himself back to Harry's lap, leaving an empty space between them, it was much too far away for Harry's liking. He tried to tug Draco closer, closer to the growing need that was building down his body, but stopped when Draco's hand slid down the gap between them, down Harry's sweaty chest and stomach, and downwards to rub lightly over the bulge in his jeans. Harry's eyes widened and he gasped, his body heat mounting and his muscles jolting from the intensity of that single light touch.

Draco was looking at him intently, his face serious, and a strange feeling of doubt crept into Harry's brain. Something was not right; he needed time to think. But Draco's face was now so close, eyes half closed, breath tingling Harry's moist lips… He looked so ready and inviting, and all Harry could do was close the distant and push his doubts away.

They kissed passionately and Draco kept adding more pressure, the heel of his palm moving slowly and firmly, only coarse fabric separating it from flesh and skin. The stimulation was almost too much and yet not enough, and Harry found it was getting harder and harder to breathe as suddenly even Dudley's over-sized jeans became too confining.

Draco's other hand was working too…

Harry's belt buckle opened.

And then a button.

A zipper lowered…

It felt so _good_ and Harry wanted it _so _bad. Then why is that voice in his head getting stronger? That annoyingly rational voice that sounded so much like Hermione was telling him to slow down. To stop before it was too late.

So he listened to it.

"Wait," he panted, and placed his hands on top of Draco's to stop him from going farther.

"Why?" Draco asked just as breathlessly.

"We need to slow down a bit." Nevertheless, he made no effort to move Draco's hands from where they so comfortably rested.

"But you want this. I can _feel _you do," said Draco and through the jeans grabbed the very hard evidence to prove just that.

"Oh, god," Harry whimpered and his hips jerked uncontrollably into Draco's palm.

Draco smirked. He tried to move his hand again, but Harry stopped him.

"But I've never... It's too fast." Harry did not want to admit he had never done this before, and he certainly did not want to know if Draco had, either.

Draco leaned forward and nuzzled his nose into Harry's ear. "Don't worry, you can top," he whispered and smiled suggestively.

_Top? Top what? What the hell does it mean? _Harry's mind was spinning, he did not know what Draco was talking about, the whole situation was too confusing, and Draco's proximity was interrupting his thought process. "No. Wait," he repeated.

"But we _can't _wait." Draco turned to look at the clock on the wall. "It has already been more than four hours, the effects will end soon." he looked back at Harry. "We must hurry up before it's over," he said, his voice anxious.

All the pleasurable sensations that flooded Harry's body disappeared like in a swish of a wand, leaving a cold plunging sensation in his stomach._ Is that all it was? The effects of the Ecstasy? _he asked himself. _Then it was all a lie..._

Draco moved for another kiss.

"It's already over," Harry snapped and pushed Draco's hands away.

Draco halted mid-way and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Get off me," Harry hissed between clenched teeth. He could not stand being so close to Draco anymore. He was furious. And above all - he was hurt.

Draco stared at him in disbelief and did not move, and Harry could not wait any longer. He needed air, he needed to get away, he needed the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "I said, get _off _me! GET OFF!" Harry shouted and shoved Draco backwards to the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco yelled, holding the back of his head where it hit the stone floor. His hair was dishevelled, his lips swollen, and red marks covered his neck. Souvenirs from their previous activities. He looked confused and disoriented at first, but then his expression changed and he looked enraged. He stood up, grabbed his wet robes from the table it was laying on, and marched into the toilet, slamming the door behind himself with a deafening bang.

The harsh sound shook in Harry's ears and he wanted to do something to show that he was angry too, but there were no other rooms to run to, no more doors to try to break. So instead he hit the window with his fist, cursed at the crack it made in the glass, and felt utterly miserable.

0-0-0 

_Did I need to sell my soul  
For pleasure like this?  
Did I have to lose control  
To treasure your kiss?  
Did I need to place my heart  
In the palm of your hand?  
Before I could even start  
To understand_

0-0-0

* * *

**A/N**: My lame attempt at drawing fanart for this chapter – http/tsosh.livejournal (dot) com/26133.html 

A direct link and a link to another fanart from chapter 2 (_Him_ _Again_) can be found on my info page.


	5. What Comes Up Must Come Down

**Summery:** Two young boys, one last fight, two little pills called Ecstasy and one long detention.

**Dedicated:** To everyone who reviewed. You made it all worthwhile!

**Beta:** By Rae (thanks for putting up with me throughout all this!) and naughtygoldie (for helping with that horrible last chapter). Hugs to you both.

**Disclaimer:** The lyrics are by Suede (but I changed the 'she' to 'he'), and the boys belong to JKR. I'm just the naughty drug dealer.

* * *

**What Comes Up Must Come Down**

Now Harry understood. This is why they called it getting high… because when you fall down_ - you crash_.

And it hurt.

And he _hated_ it.

He buckled his jeans with shaky fingers and put on his glasses. He felt exposed and wanted to wear his T-shirt, but it was still damp, so he brought his feet up to the window seat and hugged his knees instead. The cracks in the ceiling threatened to collapse and the walls were closing in on him. The wind was too cold, the sun was too bright and stung his eyes, and the smell of disturbed dust filled his lungs.

The world turned upside down once more.

Even in his cupboard he never felt so alone. It reminded him of being surrounded by Dementors, that horrible certainty that he would never be happy again, the despair.

There was an irritating prickle behind his eyes, but he managed to hold back the tears. The last time he cried was for Sirius, and crying again because of some silly teenage angst seemed like an insult to his godfather's memory. Besides, crying did not do him any good then, and would not help him now. It was a pointless, pathetic act.

He tried vainly to swallow the lump in his throat.

His jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth would shatter, and his entire body ached like in the beginning of a flu. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and more than anything wanted to crawl into his bed and pretend the outside world - and Draco Malfoy with it - never existed.

It was shocking how your world could break apart in a single moment, and it was becoming a habit in Harry's life. Every time things turned better, something happened and he sunk deeper: Discovering he was a wizard - only to find out there was an evil psychopath trying to kill him, finding a godfather - and not being able to live with him because he was an escaped prisoner, winning the Triwizard Tournament - only to be snatched by Voldemort's rebirth, and having the most wonderful time of his life - only to discover it was all a lie.

_So that's why the Muggles made it illegal_, he thought sullenly. _It makes you stupid and gullible_.

What had happened just minutes ago seemed like a different world away, as if it had all happened in another dimension, where everything was perfect and Harry could be happy for a change.

_But it wasn't real,_ he kept reminding himself. _What's wrong with me? Why do I always have to rush head first into things I know nothing about? Why don't I ever learn?_

…_And why did I kiss him?_ Maybe he could bribe someone to Obliviate them both and erase the whole thing from their memories.

At least he was sensible enough to end it. Who knows what they would have been doing right now if Harry had not stopped them, if he had let Draco go on...

Harry shook his head and chased those thoughts away.

Surprisingly, even though he was angry, he could not bring himself to hate Draco. He could not even think of him as _Malfoy_ again. Whether real or not, the experience changed something between them, changed Harry's feelings towards Draco, and the change seemed permanent. He was not foolish enough to call it _"Love"_ anymore, but a deeper understanding, a strange kind of companionship perhaps. Still, it did not make him stop wishing it had never happened. That he and Draco had never taken the drugs, never met, that he had never known Dudley, and that he was never born. It would have saved so much trouble if he had never been born. It was a conclusion he arrived to quite often these days.

How could things deteriorate so fast? One moment they were hugging innocently, and the next they were trying to swallow each other's faces. Maybe that was what ruined it. What they were feeling - what he himself was feeling - was beautifully innocent; he just wanted to cause Draco pleasure, to make him happy. Yes, he had enjoying it just as much as Draco probably had, but it had not about sex and cheap carnal lust. He thought they were above such things - too divine, too pure. That was why he had stopped Draco. He had not wanted to taint it.

He went over the day's events in his head, but could only remember fragments of it, like a twisted scattered puzzle. What he _could_ remember clearly was that he, Harry, was the one to touch Draco first, the one to initiate the first kiss, the one who suggested they should both take the pills…

_It's all my fault,_ he realised. _My fault, again_. The emotions that were storming inside him changed rapidly from anger - to depression - to guilt, a route he was already too familiar with.

His mind drifted to where Draco was, and he wondered what the other was feeling. Was he going through the same thing Harry was? Or was it worse for Draco? After all, he came here with the sole purpose of serving his detention, and found himself in the dubious world of Muggle drugs, being taken advantage of by a sixteen-year-old hormonal Gryffindor.

Harry buried his face in his hands. _Oh no, what have I done? _he thought with horror. _I sexually molested Draco Malfoy!_ It made him nauseated, and for a short while he even contemplated jumping out of the window, but as the Future Saviour, that would have meant taking the rest of the world down to hell with him, so it was out of the question. There was no easy way out. Not for the boy who lived.

He stared at the closed door that hid Draco from him. Draco had been there for almost an hour. _What if something had happened to him? _Harry's conscience nagged. _Maybe he's traumatised by what I've done? Maybe he caught pneumonia? Maybe he's dead!_ The last thought found him already standing in front of the toilet door.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again, more urgently this time.

"WHAT?" snapped Draco from the other side.

"Are you OK? You've been in there for ages. Come out." Harry hoped Draco was not in there hiding because he was scared of Pervy-Harry.

"Sod off. Leave me alone." The voice was shaky.

"Come out of there," Harry pleaded. "I… I need to pee," he tried a new tactic.

"I don't care. Go away."

Draco did not sound annoyed enough, and Harry did not like it. He suddenly remembered he never heard a locking sound. "If you're not coming out, I'm coming in," he said, waited a few seconds, and opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made him think for a split second that maybe someone had used a Time Turner. Draco was bent over the sink, wearing wet robes, cupping water in his hands and forcefully washing his face. But when he straightened and turned to look at Harry he was not grinning as he had the last time. His features were hard, his lips pursed tightly together, his eyes narrowed, and an angry crease appeared between his eyebrows. "What is it, Potter? Missed me?" he tried to sneer, but it was not very effective. Harry was glad there was no mirror on the wall, because he was sure Draco would have been mortified if he knew that his eyes were puffy and trimmed with red, that Harry could see he had been crying.

This realisation struck Harry like a Bludger to the guts. The words, _it's my fault, _repeated through his mind like a mantra. He needed to make things better. "You can't stay in here, Draco. It's too dank and chilly, it isn't healthy. And you shouldn't wear those wet robes, you'll catch a cold," he said, and mentally kicked himself for becoming Molly Weasley.

Draco stared at him and narrowed his eyes further. "What do _you_ care?" he asked and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I… I don't want to see you hurt," Harry answered honestly. "And I really need to pee," he added not so honestly, but he knew it would move Draco out of there.

Draco sighed heavily. "Fine," he said with difficulty as if he was agreeing to something awful like donating all the Malfoy fortune to SPEW. He made sure to glare at Harry on his way out.

Harry stayed there for a few minutes, just walking back and forth in the small gloomy space, trying to plan his apology to Draco. His brain seemed to be on strike. Probably lifting up _Say No to Drugs!_ signs, he imagined. So he gave up and returned to the bigger room.

Draco sat in the corner of the window seat with his legs crossed and his face turned to the wall and away from Harry, hugging himself tightly. Apparently he took Harry's advice and removed his robes. He pointedly ignored Harry as Harry approached and sat gingerly on the other side of the seat.

The silent was deafening.

It was too unnerving, and Harry could not take it any more. He released a nervous breath, and turned to Draco. "I'm sorry, alright?"

Draco kept ignoring him.

"I didn't know it would be like that," Harry continued. "I'm sorry everything went so out of control. I'm sorry _I_ went out of control," he tried to apologise. He moved to the middle of the seat, closer to Draco. "I'm not normally like that." He lowered his voice, "I never… you know… kiss -"

"Boys?" Draco interjected. "Of course you don't." He turned to look at Harry, face twisted in resentment. "You're _Perfect Potter!_" he spat. "_Perfect Potter_ who always catches the snitch, _Perfect Potter _ who always gets the better broom." He raised his voice, his eyes blazing, full with emotion. "_Perfect Potter_ who always gets away with everything, _Perfect Potter_ with his perfect Patronus, _Perfect Potter_ that everybody loves,_ Perfect Potter_ who never kisses boys!" His voice shuttered, "'cause perfect boys don't like other boys, do they?" He closed his eyes and turned away to lay his forehead on the wall. "Must be nice… being perfect," he murmured under his breath, so quietly Harry was not sure he was supposed to hear it.

Draco was breaking down and Harry's heart was breaking with him. Harry would have never believed this proud boy could feel so much pain and self-loathing as he could now hear in Draco's words. He was so occupied with his own misery and problems, that he completely ignored everyone else's, believing the grass would always be greener on the other side of the fence. Draco seemed to be guilty of it too though, if he thought Harry's life was perfect. Harry wanted to reach out to him, to hold, to comfort… but first he needed to tell him how mistaken he was.

"You're wrong, Draco. I'm not perfect, and you _know_ that. You think my life is so great? My parents were murdered, I have Voldemort after me, last year I messed things up so badly and got people hurt … and_ killed_." He had to stop to compose himself. That was the first time he admitted aloud to his guilt. "And you're right, I never kiss boys…" He looked down at his hands in embarrassment. "Just like I never kiss girls. I don't have time for those things. I mean, I kissed this one girl. Once. Under the mistletoe. Well, actually she kissed me," he mumbled and Draco turned to look at him curiously. "And it wasn't very good," Harry finished weakly with a shrug.

Draco rolled his eyes and his lips twitched in what might have been a shadow of a smile. Or probably a smirk.

"I don't think liking boys makes you any less perfect," Harry said and tried to catch Draco's eye, but he looked away again. "I don't think it matters at all." And he meant it. Up until Draco mentioned it, the thought that he kissed another boy did not even cross his mind. He _was_ confused about kissing Draco, but for whom he was, not because of his gender. He never considered his sexuality; never saw much difference between girls and boys anyway. Except for maybe the fact that girls giggled and talked too much and it was quite annoying. Maybe he really was gay. Or maybe he just liked people with pretty hair and pretty eyes, like Cho and Firenze and Sirius… and Draco. "I don't know if I like girls," Harry admitted. "I mean… kissing _you_ was actually… er… kind of better," he blurted and pretended to inspect his shoes.

"It was that damned Ecstasy, Potter. You didn't know what you were doing. I thought the dust was in love with the floor, for God's sake." Draco shook his head in shame. "So don't worry, you're not gay."

"You don't know that," Harry countered. "And I wasn't worried."

"Trust me, gays don't dress like that," Draco said and waved at Harry's oversized jeans.

"Actually, they're not really my clothes; they're my cousin's," Harry pointed out.

"You're still not gay, Potter."

"Maybe I am."

"What, so you're trying to be the better queer now? Why do you always have to compete with me over _everything_?"

"That's ridiculous. How can someone be a better queer?" Harry laughed. "You have a very peculiar way of thinking, you know that?"

Draco glared at him.

"All I'm saying is that things didn't work out for me with girls, so… maybe it's because I prefer blokes," Harry said.

"No. You _don't_," Draco argued. "Listen, did you ever want to kiss another bloke? _Not_ while under the influence of some illegal Muggle crap?"

"I wouldn't mind kissing _you_ again," Harry said, and then cringed. "I mean… er…" his words faded and he looked away, pretending he was not really there and had not confessed to anything unusual.

Draco watched him intently, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. "Fine, I'll play your game. You can kiss me." He licked his pink lips, and Harry watched as they glistened in the sunlight. "It's not like we've got anything better to do around here anyway," he drawled.

They were sitting about a metre apart, bodies towards the door and faces turned towards each other. Harry's mouth became dry as a desert, and heat crept up his cheeks. Draco was staring at him challengingly, and Harry wished he would close his eyes because it was making him even more nervous. Suddenly kissing was easier said than done. But he wanted to kiss Draco again; he needed to find out if what he remembered was real or just the effect of the drugs. And possibly also prove a point. So he gathered his courage and gulped down his anxiety, took a deep mouthful of air as someone would when preparing for a battle, and leaned sideways to meet Draco's awaiting lips.

Draco did not make things any easier for Harry, and just sat there, unresponsive. His still lips were as perfect as the last time they kissed, warm and soft and wet… Harry froze. Then he drew back as if being burned. He was suddenly conscious of his own cracked, dry lips and his lack of kissing experience, and he was afraid to make a fool of himself.

"Well, that summarises it," Draco commented in a bored tone. "It was definitely the pills before, because _that_ kiss was _boooring_."

Harry knew a challenge when he heard one, and as a proud Gryffindor, he was _not_ going to let it slide. With a determined air he licked his lips, ripped his glasses off his face, jumped up on his knees, and charged.

Draco did not know what hit him.

Harry grabbed his shoulders, pushed him back to the sidewall of the window seat, and captured his mouth with his own. He took the opportunity of Draco's startled gasp to plunder it with his tongue, tilted his head, and deepened the kiss.

This time Draco did not stay indifferent. Once his initial shock was over, his own tongue followed Harry's, and Harry welcomed it into mouth, one hand moving up to fist Draco's silky hair and the other down to rub his chest. Draco's hands entangled in Harry's hair, holding on to him tightly as he closed his eyes and made a contented noise in the back of his throat, his enthusiasm washing away the last of Harry's insecurities.

The kiss was different from when they kissed earlier that day. It was still good, but a little more awkward. Harry was aware of everything he was doing, of where he put his hands, and the small embarrassing sounds that escaped his mouth. He was also very much aware of the consequences and implications of what he was doing. There was no excuse this time; he could not blame it on the drugs anymore. He kissed Draco Malfoy because he, with a fully functional, lucid mind, _chose_ to kiss Draco Malfoy. And deep down it terrified him.

Another difference about this kiss was that now apparently Harry needed oxygen. Reluctantly, he pulled away. "Well? Still think it's boring?" he asked Draco as he tried to catch his breath.

Draco's eyes were unfocused and his pupils were dilated again. His lips were already red and swollen and parted as he panted, his chest heaving under Harry's palm. He did not answer the question. Instead, he only growled and dove forward to crush his mouth back on Harry's.

"I suppose that means no," Harry chuckled smugly, and resumed to battle their tongues.

Harry's curiosity won over him, so he used the next time they came up for air to ask about what has been bothering him. "Er… were you always gay?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "No, I decided today over breakfast," he drawled. "Of course I was!"

"So… before when you kissed me and all that… it wasn't just because of the Ecstasy? It could have happened anyway?" Harry tried unsuccessfully to hide the hope in his tone. He wanted to know if Draco had always been attracted to him.

"Don't be stupid. I _hated_ you," Draco said and Harry was happy to notice he used the past tense. "I might be sixteen and horny, but I have my principles."

"But you _want_ to kiss me now," Harry prompted.

"I don't know…" Draco frowned as he pretended to ponder it. "If you won't stop with the daft questions, I might change my mind." He smirked.

Harry grinned and licked that smirk off Draco's face.

After some more practicing Harry found out he could breathe through his nose as well, without needing to break the kiss. It was a very useful discovery, albeit a late one.

He cradled Draco's cheeks between his hands and kissed him softly. When the tip of Draco's tongue came out, Harry closed his lips around it and drew it into his mouth, sucking it greedily and then releasing, in and out in slick wet motions. Draco was whimpering, his nails digging into Harry's back as Harry continued, unwilling to give up his captured prize.

He did not stop until Draco pushed him back. "You liar, how many people have you kissed?" he asked, puffing between every word. "There's no way there've been only this _one_ girl."

"Are you implying I'm a good kisser?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows.

Draco raised his pale pointy chin defiantly. "I was saying no such thing!"

Harry could not help himself; there was something about Draco's sharp bones that drove him crazy. He bit that pointy chin, sucking on it and pressing his tongue to the soft flesh underneath Draco's jaw, feeling Draco's groans vibrating into his mouth.

"OK, so…" Draco gasped as Harry proceeded to lick his way up to his ear. "So maybe you're not a _terrible _kisser."

Harry beamed at the compliment and tried to do the best he could. He flicked his tongue over the shell of Draco's ear and nuzzled it with his nose, making Draco giggle. He tenderly kissed his temple and weaved his hands into Draco's hair, letting the silver-blond strands twirl around his fingers. It still smelled like daffodils. He pushed the yielding locks away from Draco's ear to give himself better access to the hidden skin behind it and lapped it up thoroughly, relishing the shivers he could feel were flowing through Draco's body, and the soft delighted noises he made.

Harry was kneeling on the seat, and Draco's feet were still on the floor. It was uncomfortable and Draco tried to move his leg up to near the window. His knee collided with Harry's chin, and then when he tried to move it away from Harry's face, he accidentally kicked Harry in the stomach.

"Ouch!" Harry cried and quickly caught Draco by his boot before any further damage, silently thanking him for not aiming lower. He moved the foot to his other side so he was seated in the V of Draco's legs, and leaned back to kiss him.

Harry trailed his hand higher over the boot to caress Draco's naked calf. He carried on higher over the hem of the black underwear to Draco's bent knee, and rubbed it in circles, occasionally dipping his fingers in the crack behind it to tease at the sensitive spot. He twirled his tongue around Draco's in time with his hand, and as his mouth slid down to Draco's long neck, his hand moved up to Draco's thigh.

Draco's pulse was beating fast under his lips, and his muscles quivered under his fingers as he spread his legs further. Harry stroked up and down the inside of Draco's thigh, enjoying the friction of soft velvet against his sweaty palms, and the puff of Draco's hitched breaths on his face.

Draco grasped Harry's waist and tugged him closer until their chests were touching, but Harry was still on his knees and Draco was sitting and Harry wanted to feel more, to be closer. So he moved back, grabbed the underside of Draco's knees, and pulled him down until he lay flat against the seat with his legs in the air where Harry held them.

Draco's mouth opened with surprise, and his eyes were glinting in anticipation. His blond hair was sprawled around his head like a golden crown, and his cheeks flushed liked roses as he lay, all taut muscles and pale smooth skin, presenting himself to Harry's ravenous gaze.

Everything else around Harry lost its enchanted appeal once the drug's effect was over and the ice-water bucket of sobriety hit him. Everything else except Draco - he was still the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.

Harry placed Draco's feet back on the seat and slid his palms slowly up his body. Over Draco's parted thighs, his hips, his waist, his chest, his shoulders. He braced his hands on each side of Draco's head and lowered himself over him - not touching, just close enough to feel Draco's body heat seeping into his skin. They locked their gazes for an endless moment and then Draco arched up into Harry and Harry pressed down. Their bodies seemed to fuse together. It was perfect. Harry's blood was pumping in his veins as they kissed again, gathering down his body as they rocked their hips together slowly, almost shyly. Harry wanted it to never end. It felt like the Ecstasy was coming up again, but it was not. It was Draco who was making him light-headed; it was Draco's body that made his heart speed like that, and it was Draco's kisses that intoxicated him.

He was high on Draco.

Harry brushed his knuckles along the inside of Draco's arms, over his wrists, and downwards to entwine their fingers before moving their joined hands above Draco's head. He held his body so only their foreheads touched.

Draco opened his eyes, grey dark with passion. Harry thought he could lose himself in those eyes.

"This is us, Draco," Harry said and rolled his hip down, dragging himself over Draco, bringing their erections together in one long, achingly slow, movement.

"Yes," Draco moaned.

"No drugs, no excuses."

"No. Ohh…" Draco gasped as Harry repeated his action.

"You and me, for real."

"Yes, real. Harry. Please, just… just don't stop," Draco murmured and they both groaned as Harry pressed harder.

Draco closed his legs around Harry's back in encouragement and Harry leaned down to kiss him. He slithered his hands down Draco's sides, over his jerking hips and around to grasp that soft flesh he loved so much.

"Yes," Draco whimpered needily and raised his head to bite Harry's shoulder.

Hot sparks of pleasure streamed down Harry's spine as he thrust faster against Draco who was writhing beneath him as they kissed and touched and panted. Draco's heels were digging into his lower back as Harry squeezed the round, pliable cheeks. He moved his hands higher, shoving them between Draco and the seat until he reached the line where black velvet met skin, and pushed his hands inside Draco's black underwear, craving for more naked flesh.

And then the door burst open.

Their two Heads of House stood in the entrance, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

The two boys froze on the spot.

Snape made a strange squawking sound and turned a puke shade of green.

McGonagall paled and raised her hand to her mouth in a Hermione kind of way. "That is _not _what I meant when I told you to get along!" she shrieked.

Snape squeaked again, apparently unable to speak.

Harry tried to become invisible and hid his flaming face in Draco's neck.

And Draco... he seemed completely unfazed by the whole situation, and kindly asked the shocked professors to come back later. Then he cradled his face in his hand and complained to no one in particular, "My jaw hurts."

Snape and McGonagall were still standing in the doorway, stunned by his insolence and the sight before them.

Harry scrambled off Draco and sat crouched with his hands in his lap trying fruitlessly to hide what was already painfully obvious, avoiding the professors' eyes.

Draco sat straight and looked disappointed.

"You two..." McGonagall choked and cleared her throat. "You will put your tops back on, and come down to the Great Hall with us. We will wait for you outside," she finished in a hurry and turned to leave. "Oh, come on, Severus, stop gawking!" She tugged at Snape's arm and closed the door behind them.

Something she said got the wheels in Harry's head turning. His eyes popped out as the Knut dropped and realisation sunk in - _top_. Now he got it. _Wait a minute_… He stared at Draco, wide eyed, "I CAN TOP?"

Pink crept to Draco's cheeks. "_Now?_" He laughed nervously. "They're waiting for us," he said pointedly and waved towards the door.

"I meant… er… not _right now_, just… I mean…" Harry mumbled, not feeling very eloquent at the moment. Now that he finally understood what Draco meant when he offered it, he wanted to slam his head into a wall. How could he miss that opportunity? He had the chance to… to… and he said NO? _Stupid, stupid, stupid! _he cursed himself in his mind.

Draco stood up, put on his robes, and went towards the door.

Harry glanced at his retreating back and swaying hips, and images of what he could have had flooded his mind, making his heartbeat pulse in places that were much _lower_ than where his heart was usually located.

Draco turned to look over his shoulder with a wicked little smile. "_Coming_?" he asked, batting his eyelashes.

A new mission formed in Harry's mind. It had nothing to do with defeating Voldemort or saving the world, but as he followed Draco down the tower stairs, seemed just as important –

He was going to have Draco Malfoy!

…And top.

And thank Dudley profoundly, because those pills were the most brilliant birthday present.

**0-0-0**

_'cause like all the boys in all the cities  
I take the poison, take the pity  
but he and I we soon discover  
we take the pills to find each other_

**0-0-0**

_**-The End-**_

* * *

**A/N: **

1. Thank you for reading. I hope you're not too disappointed there was no full sex scene… Please leave a review – it's my first fic and I need all the concrit and feedback I can have.

2. Links to fanart for chapters 2 and 4 can be found on my Personal Profile.

3. For those who asked why Harry would want more Ecstasy – it's because you _always_ want more after the first time. _Always_.

4. This fic was written solely for entertainment purposes. Please don't view it as an encouragement to try anything illegal or dangerous.


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